One Land, One Duke

by Emerson, Ru

  "What?” he demanded, all injured innocence. “Gonna run me through with the pen?"

  "I'll shove you in that pond, Mr. Mouth—"

  He spread his arms in a wide shrug, laughed and looked down at his very attentive audience of two. “Hey, gotta chill, you know? Lady'll get me for slander—no, libel? She'll get me.” He did a midair direction change, went back sideways down the ledge and stopped abruptly, crouched halfway into his flip. “Hey, the thingie on this tray's glowing. Yo, guys, back off, something's wrong!” He straightened his legs, and as Jennifer started to run back, flipped off the wall.

  If he'd simply jumped, he might have gotten farther from the pool, but probably not far enough: Hell-Light boiled across the silver tray, shot skyward, and spilled like a glowing fog down the wall and across the ground. There was no sign of Chris.

  17

  "No!” It burst from three throats at the same time: Jennifer's, Robyn's, and Lialla's. Half a breath later, an echo: Aletto, who had just caught Robyn and was struggling to restrain her—and Lord Evany, who came shrieking across the garden, arms flapping. He shoved Jennifer, hard enough to break her stride and send her to one knee, scooped both daughters close and encircled them, driving them before him toward the roofed weaving center.

  The noise level was nearly unbearable—Enardi and Edrith both yelling in anger, surprise and fear; Robyn's anguished wail, Aletto trying to overshout her and keep her from either attempting to shapeshift or throwing herself headlong after Chris. But as Jennifer shook her head to clear it, she clearly heard Roisan's high, carrying—and at the moment bewildered—child's voice: “But you didn't say not to bring it out! You said you wanted to present it, you didn't say to leave it alone?” Jennifer decided she'd better shelve that; she felt Dahven's arms around her, hauling her to her feet.

  "Thanks!” She tossed that over her shoulder, already running as soon as he let go of her. She could hear him right behind her.

  Lialla stood for one very long moment, hand still over her mouth as though she'd forgotten it. Enardi scrambled away from the pool, Edrith struggled to his feet and backed up a pace, stopped uncertainly as the sin-Duchess took one forward. “Chris?” she called in a thin, frightened voice. Jennifer was still a good ten feet or more away, her ears full of shouting behind her and from the direction of the house, but Lialla must have heard something else. Hell-Light was lapping at her feet, and Edrith yelled: “Lialla! Get back, it's spreading!"

  "But I can hear him!” she shouted back, and, dropping to hands and knees, she vanished into the glowing mass.

  "No, damnit!” Jennifer threw herself forward, landing bruisingly on both knees. She caught Lialla's bare feet, edged both hands upward to fasten hard around the woman's ankles; she shifted her weight at once, settling on her backside, knees up and feet widespread to brace against a terrible pull. But then Dahven's arms were around her waist, holding her back. She tightened her grip on Lialla's ankles, and to her relief the woman didn't seem to be sliding away from her. When Edrith dropped down next to her, she shook her head. “Go, get out of here. I don't want it getting all of us."

  "Not going,” Edrith said flatly. “I'll help."

  Jennifer shook her head furiously, checked the movement as sweat dripped down her hair to sting her eyes. “All right—fine, all right, in that case, make me a constant beat—like this,” she added, and slapped down a three-beat with her feet. “And you'd better keep it going, because I have to have music, and if you can't help me concentrate on it, we might all get chewed up. Still want to stay?"

  "Go,” he replied. Jennifer merely nodded, then leaned forward against Dahven's grasp.

  "Lialla? Can you hear me?"

  "Hear—you.” Lialla sounded breathless, the words muffled—mostly, Jennifer thought, by the protective circle of silver Thread the woman was trying to build around herself as she felt around for Chris. “Can you hear Chris?"

  It wasn't easy, ignoring the hysteria behind her to concentrate on even Lialla's voice. “I—yeah, I hear him!” Jennifer shouted. Chris was rapping again, his voice suddenly strong, higher in pitch than usual and street-tough. As she listened, she could hear his hands slapping against something, setting a driving beat. “Hit it,” she told Edrith, “just the way I showed you, got it?” He nodded, she cleared her throat and shut her eyes—shutting out everything, including the encroaching pool of Light that threatened to engulf Lialla's feet—and her hands—at any moment.

  It later struck her as one of the stranger things of the entire episode, that Edrith's three-beat matched itself to Chris's beat, that Stride La Vampa should dovetail so neatly with Chris's angry rhymes. “Yo, my name is Chris/and I ain't scared/of you, jerk-faced Jadek/just because you dared/to mess with Hell-Light/give us all some hard times/'cause the day's comin’ soon/gonna pay for your crimes.” She could only guess how the kid was doing—whether he was trying to keep his spirits up while Hell-Light gnawed at his soul, or if the rap was actually shielding him. She took comfort from the fact that he still sounded strong, and that he maintained the concentration to keep going—creating the rhymes as he went. Well as she knew the mad gypsy woman's aria, she had to really work to remember Italian words that told of a terrified old woman burned at the stake; she found herself wondering if such a song was a good idea.

  Chris seemed to have no such reservations. “Don't you mess with me/don't go foolin’ around/you gonna get me mad and/you'll be goin’ down./Got yourself set up/for a nasty fall/gonna lose the Fort/and that ain't all./Say you gettin’ me pissed/and when you do/you will not like what/happens to you."

  "Chris!” Lialla's shout was doubly muffled, by Light and the network of Thread surrounding her. “Don't stop, keep that up! I need the sound to find you!"

  Chris's laugh came back at once. “Primo,” he shouted, and shifted immediately back to voice. “Say, you got me pissed/got me thinkin’ hard/when I get outa this mess/gonna pull your card./Don't mess with me, dude/stay off my back/'cause I settle with you/and you don't wanna see that—ohshit-that-didn't-rhyme,” he added rapidly. “Yo, I ain't fat an’ ugly/like your cousin Carolan/and your niece is real cute/so maybe we get it on/maybe do the Wild Thing/right on your front lawn!"

  Jennifer ran through her aria, drew a deep breath and began the first verse once again. When she dared open her eyes, she found her inner sense hadn't deceived her at all; the Light was definitely shying away from her, leaving a half-circle in front of Edrith; Lialla's legs were visible for several inches above Jennifer's gripping hands. Chris had to be pausing for breath, though she couldn't really hear a break in what he was doing.

  "Now don't go thinkin'/I'm pullin’ your chain/gonna pull your plug/and send you down the drain./"

  Lialla suddenly edged herself forward and shouted, “Got him!"

  "Hang on!” Dahven leaned over Jennifer's shoulder to yell back. “We'll pull you both!” And, to Jennifer, “Keep singing, I think you're helping.” She nodded vigorously, let him edge her backwards, away from Hell-Light, more of Lialla coming into sight with each step.

  Chris might not have been aware of any of them, for all the response he gave. “Yeah, my rhymes are violent/but you're the one started it/and when it's done, you'll be the body/and me the one who's carted it/off/so hey, Jadek, I mean what I say/I learned tough/way back in L. A./So what it's your ‘hood/so what you're hard/so what you got a Triad/I'm gonna pull your card./So maybe you're tough/but I can be tougher/and we'll see when it's over/just who was the bluffer.” Lialla was all the way out, now; Chris's high-top clutched in both hands; Jennifer let Aletto and Robyn catch hold of the sin-Duchess while she grabbed her nephew's ankle, hard.

  For a moment, she wasn't sure she'd be able to move him, even with Dahven dragging at her; Chris came all at once, as though he'd been an overlarge stopper in a too-small bottle. He rolled over, sat up, and barked one last verse in the direction of the roil of Light that still blocked most of the fountain. “We're heading your way/and it won't be long/we gonna go off in yo
ur face/like a time bomb.” He ran a hand across his eyes, shook his head. “Whoa, that was weird. Like a bad carnival ride or something.” Robyn threw her arms around him and he held her close for a moment, patted her hair. “Hey, ma, it's all right, stuff didn't eat me.” His hand froze in midair; he set his mother aside. “No, really, I'm fine. But—oh, man? Li?"

  Aletto sat staring at his sister, eyes wide and frightened. She sat cross-legged on the gravel, head down, arms bracing her forehead. When he laid a tentative hand on her arm, she shoved it away. “Don't. Aletto, don't, I'm contaminated, don't—"

  "She won't let me touch her,” he whispered.

  Chris caught a handful of Aletto's sleeve and tugged. “Take mom, will you? It's okay, really.” He crawled over, thumped down next to Lialla and when he jumped he wrapped both arms around her. “Don't; if you're contaminated, I gotta be really contaminated, so it's all right for me to hang onto you. And I'm gonna anyway, so chill, all right?” He tightened his grasp until she quit struggling. “Listen, you didn't have to do that, I just want you to know I'm grateful, and I'll pay you back, okay? Um, and I didn't really mean all that stuff I said about you, in there. All right?"

  "Don't remember. Don't—"

  "Nothing you got I didn't get more of, and I feel just fine. Forget the Wild Thing, bad joke, okay?” Chris rubbed her arms, scratched circles on her back with blunt fingertips. “You're shaking like a leaf, lady. You want a blanket or something?” Lialla fetched a sigh and whispered something against his shirt. He bent down to listen and when he straightened his face had gone grave, but he kept his voice determinedly light. “Hey, we can fix anything, remember? Hang on, I'll get you something to drink, bring over a blanket, all right?” He got halfway to his feet, seemed to decide this wasn't a good idea and crawled over to Jennifer. “Jen? I think we have a problem. Li says her eyes aren't working; like, she can't see anything."

  "Oh, Lord,” Jennifer whispered. She let her eyes close very briefly, let out a sigh and nodded. “Get her—hell, what it was you said. Stick with her, will you, kid? This—I've got to shut it down. Somehow. Wait, though; answer one thing: Wasn't there something—a box, something of the sort, on that tray?"

  "A box, yeah. Rectangular, silver. Started glowing all of a sudden."

  "Fine. Now I know what to look for. Back up, will you?"

  "Hell, no,” Chris said flatly. He glanced at the still very active-looking Hell-Light. “I'm gonna help. Because—No, listen, I don't know how your gargle-music works on this stuff but rap works: I had it held way away from me, like a foot away, all around. So, maybe between us—"

  "Chris,” Jennifer warned.

  "Jen,” he mimicked. “You gonna wait for it to eat us all, or can we cut the crap and do it?"

  "Do it, then,” she snapped. “Dahven—"

  "You'd better not even think of telling me to back off so you can crawl into that—!"

  "No. I'm telling you not to let go of me."

  "I've got you.” His hands were hard on her waist, and then he slipped one to hang onto her sash as she edged forward. Chris stood, slid his feet forward until they nearly touched Light, and he shifted back into voice: Outside of the trap, he sounded loud, arrogant and very challenging.

  "Yo, my name is Chris/and I ain't scared/of Aletto's creep uncle/be he blond or black-haired./I'm chillin’ in Podhru/'cause ol’ Jadek's up in Sehfi/and he thinks he'll keep the Fort/but we know it's only ef-he/can pull Aletto's card/and that's gonna be real hard—” Jennifer inched forward on elbows and knees, her own voice harsh and just a little too low as she began Alzucena's aria for the third time. Too late to shift key, she thought. Didn't matter anyway; either she or Chris—possibly both of them—was prevailing: Light shifted away from her on both sides, gave way before her. Grudgingly, it seemed; but as she shifted forward and her voice soared, Light retreated.

  She was on solid paving now, a splintery mat under her. The reflecting pool wall had to be within reach, though she couldn't see it. The source of the Light spell: She couldn't see it, either, but she could sense it—just to her right, scarcely any distance at all. She began the last line of her aria—Sinistra splenda, indeed!—and lunged. Her hands sank into something that clutched like mud, or putty, something that clamped around her fingers and tried to suck her in. Her outstretched thumbs brushed against a hard-edged object; she latched onto it desperately, threw a misplaced pair of lines from later in Il Trovatore at the stuff that held her. It eased, just enough. She forced the open lid down with her thumbs, scrambled up and back onto her knees, and threw it into the water, where it landed with an explosive splash. Light vanished.

  Jennifer drew a painful little sigh and forced herself to hold her hands where she could look at them. They were cold, a little too white. Stiff. They responded to her own chafing, and then to Dahven's when he wrapped himself close around her back and leaned over her shoulder to rub them.

  Chris had already gone back over to Lialla, who sat cross-legged and stiffly unmoving where he had left her. Robyn sat close to the sin-Duchess, eyeing her worriedly but not attempting to touch her; by the look on his mother's face, Chris thought she had tried that and been fiercely rebuffed.

  Well, that wasn't going to work with him. He nodded in Robyn's direction, blew her a kiss before patting his arms around Lialla once more. She tried to shove him aside; he tightened his grip. “Me again, lady; fellow leper, remember?"

  "Chris, don't—"

  "Shhh. Hey, don't worry about me. We got rid of the bad thing, me and Jen. Maybe fried your uncle when it hit the water, we should be so lucky, huh?” He took her shoulders between his hands and gave her a gentle shake. “You seeing any better yet?"

  "Not seeing anything,” she whispered, and her voice shook. Chris felt his heart drop. He swallowed, forced as much cheer into his voice as he could.

  "Well, you know? That stuff was pretty bright; guy needed sunglasses in there. You know, I couldn't even tell which end was up, like I was floating or something.” He drew her in close, began rubbing her back once more. God, she's so thin it's spooky, he thought. He cast a rather anxious glance in Jennifer's direction; she was bent over, head almost between her knees, Dahven bent over her, rubbing her hands. He looked at Robyn, who was dividing her attention between him, Lialla, Jennifer, and someone—probably Aletto—he couldn't see without turning clear around. He got his mother's attention, sent his eyes in Jennifer's direction, then glanced down at Lialla. Robyn nodded, got to her feet and went to bend over her sister.

  Jennifer sat up, pushed hair back and let Dahven help her to her feet. She started across to where Lialla sat, then looked beyond the sin-Duchess and her nephew, slowed and beckoned to Dahven. “How much do you feel like a peacekeeper?” she asked, and gestured with her head.

  He followed the motion: Aletto stood just outside the house, half a dozen stunned-looking armsmen to one side of him; he had Lord Evany backed against the wall. Dahven nodded, touched her shoulder and went around her.

  Jennifer knelt at Lialla's side. “Li?"

  "Jen? Get Chris away, please. I'm not safe after that—"

  "Oh, hush, woman,” Jennifer replied crisply. “If that's all you can say. I'd much rather you tell me exactly what you feel so we can see if we can deal with it."

  "We can't! My father—"

  "Your father wasn't a Wielder,” Jennifer said. “He wasn't even partially protected by a silver sphere when he hit Light; I'd be willing to wager he didn't have a decent Wielder to help him after—and don't you dare tell me he had Merrida, and prove my point."

  Very unwillingly, Lialla smiled, then laughed. “Dear gods,” she whispered. “All right. What do you want?"

  "Tell me what hurts, what's wrong."

  "What's wrong? What's wrong?"

  "Without hysteria, please."

  "I—I can't see."

  "I don't know exactly what to do about that, but I'll try. What else?"

  "I—” Lialla swallowed. “I can feel it. Like I drew it in, w
hen I was breathing, brought it inside me."

  "Very possibly you did. No,” she added sharply, “don't let that panic you. Let's be sensible about this, and practical, can we? Is it a general feeling, something that's in your breathing passages?"

  "It's—it was in my throat, then my chest. It's—I don't know, I can just feel it."

  "In the pit of your stomach?"

  "That's just fear,” Lialla whispered.

  "Well, I can understand that, but I don't think you need to be afraid."

  "My father died of Light—"

  "Don't let yourself think about that, Lialla,” Jennifer interrupted her firmly. “We all know it. But you've learned some things since then, haven't you? About Light? How about the men who used it to go from place to place? You know it can do more than simply waste a person away, remember that. Remember something else: about magic itself. It's just magic; whether it's good or evil depends on the person using it—not the magic itself."

  "I don't know that. You don't—"

  "I know people like Merrida and Neri don't believe that. I've come in without the preconceived ideas Merrida fed you, or that Neri grew up with, I've seen a variety of magic, I've observed Light, and now I've touched it. Lialla, I simply can't believe Hell-Light is evil in and of itself—though I wouldn't say the same about the man who set it on you.” She waited. Lialla shook her head but didn't say anything. “All right, then. I can't ask you to agree with me, just think about it. Please. Now. I'm going to take your hands, feel them. See what I can tell, will you trust me that far?” A nod. “All right."

  Jennifer was vaguely aware of the shouting match going on over by the house: men's voices, the rather high one that was Evany's, Aletto's hard-edged voice topping Evany's. Dahven's now and again, as he tried to get a word in and settle the dispute. All that faded as she shifted into an awareness of Thread.

  * * * *

  "I knew there would be trouble, I knew it, I knew I should have refused Gyrdan—!” Evany's shrill voice was even shriller with fury and fear equally mixed. Aletto was simply furious clear through.